


Delicious

by Not_You



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Breakfast in Bed (okay it's dessert but whatever), Comfort Food, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Lesbian Sex (off-screen), M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Kink, Nudity, Past Sexual Abuse (hardly mentioned and nat is okay now), Rule 63, Service Kink, Sex Toys (used off-screen by the sexual people)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anatoly Romanov is very glad to have Philomel Coulson and Clara Barton in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicious

Anatoly can remember being this happy. It's a very dim memory, though, from before the orphanage even, let alone before the Red Room. He supposes that in both cases it stems from being understood. His father had understood him as a tiny child, and Clara and Phil understand him now. He smiles as a particularly loud cry floats down the stairs. It's Clara, high and desperate from whatever Phil is doing to her. He could imagine if he wanted to, but it's such a relief to live the kind of life where he doesn't have to know about things like that that he's going to enjoy it while he can. It's wonderful to just be glad that they're happy, and not to have to take part. Because they understand.

For Anatoly, sex is for work. He's not sure what would have happened if the Red Room hadn't trained him the way they had, but even when he was fourteen all those erections had just been an inconvencience. He doesn't get them very often anymore, and usually when he needs to piss, which is counterproductive and stupid. Now he checks on the brownies in the oven, because Phil has been craving chocolate and Anatoly wants to help her with that. They look good, but aren't quite done yet. He closes the oven door and opens the red wine to breathe, finding three nice goblets.

Phil and Clara both love whipped cream with their brownies, so Anatoly makes them some, laughing because they switch on that huge, criminally loud vibrator of theirs only a second before he turns the mixer on. It's still going when the cream stands in soft peaks, and Anatoly grins, putting the bowl in the fridge and then jumping when Phil screams. He has never quite gotten used to that sharp and ragged sound coming out of Agent Coulson, but it subsides into soft moaning, almost entirely muffled by the walls and the staircase.

A moment later the brownies are done, and Anatoly pulls them out to cool before cutting as he arranges three small plates and forks on the tray. Phil has lovely china, and Anatoly likes to use it. So many times he's eaten off beautiful dishes on missions, and been unable to appreciate it, too busy watching everywhere at once while looking pretty and bored. Now he has time to run his fingertips around the silver rims, and to watch the play of light over the seaside scene on the centers. Upstairs the noises subside. For a while there's silence, and then he hears the shower running. He smiles, and slices the brownies (no nuts, Clara hates them because she has the palate of a child) before putting two on each plate, decorating each with a blob of whipped cream, a few perfect raspberries, and just a few little shavings of extra-dark chocolate. Satisfied with his tray, Anatoly makes his way upstairs as the shower switches off.

As usual, his timing is perfect. The bed is basically back in order again, and the toys are neatly stacked up in the plastic bin Phil bought to hold them when they need to be washed. Phil is on her back, propped up on stacked pillows, and Clara is cuddled in against her side, her head resting on the top of one of Phil's full, low breasts. Phil frets about sagging, but Clara just tells her that even Agent Coulson can't get around gravity, and that at least she has something for it to pull on.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Anatoly says, and Clara opens her eyes, grinning at him.

“Hey, Nat. Get naked and join the party.”

He chuckles, passing the tray to Phil, who takes it with both hands and arranges it securely across her lap. “Thank you, Anatoly. These look _amazing_.”

“I'm glad you think so,” he says, stripping down and draping his clothes over the same chair as Clara's. For all his lack of interest in sex, Anatoly doesn't mind nudity at all. Nudity is soft and comfortable and makes it easier to share body heat when it's cold out. Phil and Clara both watch him, of course, but much the same way they would watch a beautiful animal. Clara sits up and takes the tray from Phil as Anatoly approaches the bed.

“I wanna be in the middle,” she says, getting it settled over her own lap.

“Brat,” Phil coos, and kisses her.

“I've been gone more lately. I miss Nat.”

“How touching,” Anatoly says, cuddling up to Clara and kissing her softly when she turns her head enough to allow it. He loves kissing both of them. Women's lips are so soft, and their mouths taste better than men's. Phil holds her long grey tresses out of the way and leans across Clara to press her lips to his at her first real chance. It's soft and lingering, and Phil nibbles his lip as she pulls away, smiling.

“Now that we've both kissed the cook,” she says, taking one of the glasses from the tray.

“Quite,” Clara agrees, and does the same, clinking it to Phil's when Phil toasts Anatoly. He just laughs and takes one of the plates, delighted with his own cooking, as always. Clara moans softly in sheer delight at her first bite of brownie. “People who think sex is everything are fucking idiots,” she says with feeling, and Phil and Anatoly both laugh at her sincerity.

“It's nice to be understood,” Anatoly says, as if it doesn't mean everything in the world to him. Clara laces her fingers with his, though, and squeezes gently.

“We do our best, baby.” She leans on him as she eats, and Phil watches them with that proprietary, almost maternal look that always hits Anatoly like summer sun. Later they'll have to wash the toys and get the crumbs out of the sheets, but for now they can just be here together, in this room that smells like people who understand him.


End file.
